Hunter's Legacy

Piper

There was no way out.

At least, not one that she could see.

Behind her, it was destroyed--mostly. There was a small pile of concrete lying in the middle of the area, and, beside her, was the chair that Serena had bound her to, just minutes before the ceiling had collapsed.

Piper couldn’t help but wonder where she had gone to; one minute she was there, the next she wasn’t. Right before the ceiling fell in, she remembered what Serena had said.

It’s done.

Piper had noted Serena’s satisfied smile, as she had said it. Piper hadn’t known what she meant. Maybe something to do with the Hunters, or with the bunker itself; whatever it was, it was, certainly, nothing good.

“Piper!” a voice called her name, rather faintly. It was followed by a cough.

“Piper,” it called again, this time, it wasn’t only faint, but raspy as well. Piper focused her attention on the room that she was in. The cough sounded again, coming from the other side of the rubble. Piper followed it and found Eddie on the floor; he was partially covered in dust, and Piper noticed a bruise blooming on his forehead.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Piper asked, helping him up into a sitting position.

“I think so,” Eddie said, groaning. He winced as he touched the bruise on his head, “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Piper moved to sit in front of him, “I went to check some things in the office, I found you, unconscious, in the hallway, I got knocked out and woke up here. I was tied to a chair…Serena’s a demon…what was the last thing you remember?”

“Wait a second,” Eddie said, wincing as he made to stand. After a minute, he finally made it to his feet, “Serena’s a demon? How? I vetted her, myself.”

“I have no idea how she got past us. The demon said that it laid in wait, laid back long enough for Serena to gain our trust.”

“But that’s impossible. We put every person who comes through here through the holy water test, the cross test…” Eddie ticked his fingers off, looking befuddled at how a demon could sneak in through their ranks.

“I know. Upon contact with the holy water, staying dormant or not, it should have had some effect,” Piper said, standing as well. Eddie looked up and around, taking in the space that the two of them stood in. He looked at Piper, questioningly.

“I don’t know where we are,” Piper said, shrugging, “Do you remember anything?”

“I was showing the witches around, and I think one of them knocked me out. I didn’t wake up until after the ceiling caved in,” Eddie said, putting his hands on his hips and surveying the room, again.

“How’d you know it was me who was in here?” she asked.

“I took a guess,” Eddie shrugged, “Honestly, anyone else who would’ve been down here would’ve been scared shitless and would’ve started screaming the second they realized that they were alone; not many people survey their surroundings in this kind of situation.”

Piper walked around the pile of rubble, with Eddie following her; she came to a stop and looked straight up at the hole.

“Where does it lead?” she mused, crossing her arms over her chest and looking up at the hole.

“The more important question is, how do we get out of here?” Eddie asked, adopting the same stance as Piper.

Eddie was right; Piper often surveyed her surroundings, trying to determine the best path to take. Her eyes flicked from the pile of rubble to the hole above; maybe, if she could get to the top of it, she could get a better idea of how far down they really were.

Piper put her foot out, stepping onto the pile; she wavered a little, and put her arms out, to steady herself. She fell forward a bit, placing her hands in front of her, and began moving them up, climbing up the pile. One piece slipped down from the pile, out from under her hand, which caused her to fall, hard, hitting her ribs against the broken concrete. She pushed herself up, letting out a breath of air, before continuing. Piper finally made it, and pushed herself up into a standing position. From her vantage point, she could see that it was a good six feet to the opening, from the top of the pile.

Her first thought was, maybe Eddie could boost her up; he was a good six feet tall, maybe tall enough to get her high enough to where she could pull herself out. Piper shook her head, dismissing the idea. It had merit, but how would Eddie get out?

Piper surveyed her surroundings again. One of the metal shelving units caught her eye; the top nearly scraped against what was left of the ceiling. Piper hoped that, if placed right, it could work as a type of ladder, and aid in getting them out of there.

She walked, carefully, back down the pile, and over to the shelf.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked, as she started unloading the shelves. She found flashlights and batteries, lanterns and MREs…whoever stocked this place, was ready for an end-of-the-world apocalypse.

“I’m moving this shelf,” Piper said, as she took another box down; to her delight, it was filled with flares, “I figure, if we can move it, and possibly tip it, we can use it as a means to get out of here.” Eddie nodded, and started moving boxes off the shelves.

It took quite a few minutes to clear each shelf--it probably wouldn’t have taken so long, if Piper hadn’t looked through each box. Though, if she hadn’t, she probably wouldn’t have found the survival equipment.

When the shelf was finally cleared off, and all the boxes were set aside, Piper and Eddie each picked up a side, and began to move it. It was a lot heavier than it looked, but little by little, they moved it over and finally set it down.

“Just give me a minute,” Piper huffed, bending over to catch her breath.

“We’re not going to be able to get it up there,” Eddie said.

“What do you mean?” Piper asked, straightening up.

“This unit isn’t just metal, it has to be some kind of steel, to be as heavy as it is,” Eddie shrugged. Piper frowned, and then looked behind her, trying to see if there was anything else that they could use to get to the opening. She walked around the pile, and stopped when she noticed a stack of Bo Staves sitting atop another shelving unit. Climbing up a couple of the shelves, she was able to reach and pulled one down; because of the way that they were piled up there, they all came down at once. Luckily, they managed to miss Piper altogether, instead landing at the bottom of the shelving unit.

“Are you okay?” Eddie called, from where he still stood, on the other side of the room.

“Yep,” Piper called back. Clutching the Bo staff in her hand, she pushed off with one foot, and she was able to land, without stumbling, on the other side of the pile.

Feeling accomplished in the moment, Piper grabbed another one of the Bo Staves and walked back over to where Eddie was standing.

“You want to spar? Now?” he asked, disbelievingly. Piper chuckled, as she tossed him a staff.

“No,” she said, and she looked up at the opening, “How wide around do you think that is?”

“I don’t know, I was never that good with math,” Eddie shrugged, looking back up at the opening too.

“Do you think it’s wider than forty-seven inches?” Piper asked, causing Eddie to give her a questioning look, “I figure, if we can climb to the top, maybe, we can find a way to get the Bo Staff across the top, and use momentum to get to one side.”

“Will that work?” Eddie asked, sounding doubtful.

“We’ll never know unless we try,” Piper stated. Eddie nodded and looked to the other side of the pile of rubble. He walked around it, and found a spot, directly under the opening. Looking around, Eddie found a shelving unit that was like the other one, with the exception of being empty.

“Come give me a hand,” Eddie said. Piper was there in a second; dropping her stick she helped Eddie tug the shelf over, just a few feet.

Once the unit was where it was supposed to be, Piper picked up her stick.

“You go up first,” Eddie told her, “I’ll follow with the gear.” Piper nodded, knowing that it was the most logical way to go about the situation. With the Bo staff, Piper climbed up the shelf, stopping with her feet on the third one down.

Steadying herself, Piper carefully let go of the shelf in front of her, grasped the Bo staff and thrust upwards. She let out a sigh of relief when she realized that she was, successfully, hanging over the room that she had been in for the last little while.

Using her momentum, Piper swung her body forward, taking the Bo staff with her, moving it, inch by inch, until she made it to the edge. Still hanging onto the Bo staff with one hand, Piper reached forward, until her fingers met the edge of the opening. Managing to get a firmer grasp of the edge, she let go of the Bo staff and pulled herself up and over the edge.

She rolled over the edge, letting out a breath; in all reality, she wasn’t confident that her plan would work. When her fight or flight instinct kicked in, Piper chose to fight, and she wasn’t going to be left to die in a strange room.

She turned her head and was met with darkness; the only real light was coming from the crater next to her. It wasn’t complete, disorienting, darkness, but it was dark enough to where she couldn’t see a way out.

Piper jumped when a backpack was tossed next to her; Eddie soon followed, pulling himself up and panting like he’d just run a marathon.

“Did you manage to get the flashlights?” Piper asked, as Eddie opened the bag. In answer, he pulled out two of the flashlights, and a pack of batteries. He handed the supplies to Piper, who took a minute to load the batteries in, before she clicked it on.

There was no light.

She clicked it again, shook it, and then slapped it against her palm. Light shone bright from it, illuminating the small area that they were in.

“Where are we?” Piper muttered, standing up and shining the flashlight around them.

The walls, the ceiling, it was all dirt. Tightly compacted, with a few stray roots sticking out here and there, but dirt, all the same.

“Did you know it was this deeply underground?” Eddie asked, finally turning on his own flashlight.

“I had an idea, but not to this extent,” Piper replied. She shined her light at a space across from her, the light shining on, what looked like, a tunnel.

“Where do you think that leads?” Piper asked, nodding and gesturing with her flashlight towards it.

“I don’t know, but let’s find out.”

Camille

“Are you sure that you want to be a part of this?” I asked Alexander, for the sixth time, “We can send Natasha in, and I can take you back to the room.” We were sitting at 2346 Peachtree drive, and Alexander was looking at the house, furtively. The house was nice, quaint, with its brick red outside, the two wooden columns in the front, holding up the navy-colored roof, and planter boxes set at the two front windows. The lawn was green and neatly mowed, there was a trampoline on the left side of the cement walkway, and an assembly of other miscellaneous children’s toys on the other.

“I’m fine,” Alexander said, his tone clipped and short. Natasha and I shared a look; maybe bringing him along wasn’t such a good idea after all. I was all for tough love and one learning their lesson, but I think he’s putting himself through unneeded psychological torture.

“Well then, let’s go,” I said, pushing the door open.

“Camille,” Natasha said, getting out of the car. She shot me a look over the roof of it.

“What? He said he was fine,” I responded.

“And what if he’s not? What if he says something and blows up this whole case?” she said, again.

“I won’t,” Alexander said, flatly, as he got out of the car, as well.

“I hate to say it, but Natasha’s right,” I said, and I noted the sigh that left Alexander, as he leaned back against the car, “You need to rein in your feelings; whatever feelings you have towards Margot Porter, they don’t matter in this moment. So, if you need to, take a moment to compose yourself, so we can go in there like professionals.”

“Are you done?” Alexander asked, in the same flat tone.

“Yep,” I snapped, resisting the urge to smack him upside the head.

“If you two are done here, we have work to do,” Natasha said, with a raised eyebrow. Choosing to say nothing, I started walking across the street, and up the walkway to the house.

I knocked on the door, and heard a dog barking coming from inside; next I heard footsteps, before the door opened.

“Margot Porter?” I asked.

“Yes, can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m Agent Hawthorne, this is Agent McIntyre and Proby Agent Bullock,” I said, flashing the badge that I had and gesturing to Natasha and Alexander, as they did the same.

“I’ve never seen FBI Agents dress so comfortably,” Margot commented.

“We’re off duty,” I said, shrugging, “But we have a matter we’d like to discuss.”

“What kind of matter would the FBI be interested in, that involves me?” she asked, though I noted suspicion in her tone.

This was going to be harder than I had initially thought.

“If we could come in for a second--” Natasha started.

“I don’t think so,” Margot said.

"Please, Ma'am, it'll only take a moment," Natasha said.

"I don't think so, I think you better leave before I call the police," Margot stepped back into her house, and started to shut the door.

“I’m your son,” Alexander said, loudly.

No one moved, no one seemed to breathe. Margot’s eyes went wide, and she opened her door, wider.

“Please, come in,” she said, quietly, stepping aside. We nodded, stepping in, and then stepping off to the side, so that she could shut the door. “Please sit down,” Margot said, leading us to the living room, and gesturing to the couches that sat on either side of a small coffee table, “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No, thank you, we’re fine,” Natasha said, politely, though Margot seemed to be paying no attention; her eyes were trained on Alexander, studying him as though he was the most interesting thing on the planet.

“You look so much like him,” she muttered.

“What?” Alexander asked, his brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry,” Margot chuckled, slightly, “My boyfriend, at the time. His name was Damien; you look an awful lot like him. What is your name?”

“Alexander,” he replied. Margot chuckled again, this time, a little too giddily. Natasha and I shared a look; this woman, though she didn’t appear to be a viable threat, she seemed slightly unhinged.

“Actually, Mrs. Porter--”

“--Please, call me Margot,” she requested, in a gentle tone.

“Alright, Margot. We actually would like to speak with you about Damien,” I said.

“What about him?” she asked.

“How was he acting when you last saw him?” Natasha asked, “Did he seem okay?”

“He seemed fine, why do you ask?” she asked, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“We think there were some…unusual circumstances surrounding his last known whereabouts,” I said, being careful with my wording.

“What kind of ‘unusual circumstances’?” Margot asked. I opened my mouth to answer, and that’s when it happened.

Alexander

Alexander had been anticipating this visit for a long time. When he had started asking questions about his birth parents, his mother was very supportive when it came to helping him get answers. They hadn’t gotten far, at all; it was a closed adoption, so he never knew her name, that is, until Camille and Natasha went down this rabbit hole, looking for answers.

So, sitting outside her nice little house, with the toys in the yard, it made him sour to even think that she had easily moved on in her life, after she had given him up. Camille and Natasha’s insistence that he didn’t need to be here, and their incessant offers to take him back to the motel, soured his mood as well. He knew he didn’t have to be here, he wanted to be here, he wanted to get a look at the woman who had given him up twenty-one years ago.

So, now, as they sat in her house, speaking to her, Alexander’s eyes wandered to the mantle of the fireplace, where an arrangement of photos sat.

His gaze zeroed in on a picture of Margot with two children--his brother and sister, more than likely. It looked as though they were at a lake, camping or maybe fishing. Alexander had his fair share of family trips like that. Looking at those reminded him that his own mother had been killed by a demon, so trips like that were off the table.

Margot had chuckled when he had given her his name; the way her chuckle had come out, it was too giddy, as though something he had said was overly funny, or as though she was trying just a bit too hard.

It was a bit unsettling.

When Camille brought up the fact that they wanted to talk about Alexander’s birth father--his name was Damien, apparently--the same buzzing that had occurred at the diner the other day, was occurring at that point as well.

Alexander clutched his head; he could see both Camille and Natasha looking at him with concern, he could see that they were speaking to him, but, beyond the buzzing in his head, he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

The buzzing was incessant, and Alexander pressed his hands to his head tighter, as though the pressure would relieve it.

Amongst the buzzing, which only seemed to get louder by the second, two words filtered their way into his mind.

Help me.

He squinted his eyes open to see Camille, Natasha, and Margot, all looking at him with mixed expressions of worry and confusion.

“Can you hear that?” he asked. The looks of worry on all three of the women’s faces intensified. He knew that he was probably yelling, at this point, “Where are you?”

Visions of cement and brick walls, accent floor under a pair of bare feet, and then a small wall of bars.

Just like that, as soon as it came, the buzzing stopped, the visions disappeared, and the voice was no more.

“Are you okay?” Camille asked, concern evident in her voice. Alexander gulped down some much-needed air and stood from the floor--he had no idea when he ended up there--feeling wary as he nodded. Margot muttered something about getting him a glass of water, and she left the room.

“What was that?” Natasha asked, the same concern lacing her tone.

“I don’t know,” Alexander said, shaking his head, feeling helpless, “There was a voice, it said ‘help me’, and then I saw something that looked like a cell.”

“A cell?” Camille asked, “Like a jail cell?”

“A makeshift jail cell, maybe,” Alexander said. He muttered a ‘thank you’ as Margot handed him the glass of water.

“When you say ‘jail cell’ are we talking ‘cement walls’ type of jail cell?” Camille asked.

“The walls looked like they were made of cement and brick, the floor was cement,” he replied.

That was when a look of recognition passed over Margot’s face.

“Do you know something?” Alexander asked her. Her eyes went wide for a second.

“N-no, of course not,” Margot said, although she stuttered out the first word.

“What are you talking about?” Natasha asked, looking at Alexander with raised eyebrows.

“When I mentioned the cell-like structure, a look of recognition passed over her face, like she knew exactly what we were talking about,” Alexander said. He was surprised at how steady he was able to keep his voice; inside, he felt hysterical. He felt like he had no idea what was going on, and, yet, his voice was steady and didn’t portray how close he was to falling apart, “So, what do you know, Margot?”

“Nothing,” she repeated, her voice raising an octave as she spoke the word. Alexander and Natasha shared a look, and Alexander felt his sense of unease deepen. This woman standing in front of them, might have been his birth mother, but something wasn’t right about their current situation.

Alexander looked to Camille, “Please Camille, I know we don’t really get along, but can you please trust my judgment, here? Something's not right.” For a minute, he wasn’t sure that she would give him a chance. He saw her bite her lip, as though she was thinking about the right course to take.

Alexander had to admit, that was something that he liked and respected about Camille; she never--at least in the time that he'd known her--jumped into a situation with both feet.

It wasn’t until she faced Margot, with her arms folded across her chest.

“What, exactly is going on?” she asked.

It was quiet for a minute, as Margot stood still, staring at Camille, as if she was thinking about the best way to answer the question.

“Maybe it’s just best if I show you,” she said, ominously. The three shared another look, and then followed Magot as she walked out of the living room.

“After I had given you up, I was visited by several people who wanted to get their hands on you,” Margot explained, leading them into the kitchen.

“These people wouldn’t have been dressed in black and have black eyes, would they?” Camille asked.

“Yes, they did,” Margot replied, leading them to a door off to the side of the kitchen, “When I found out what they were, I took precautions to protect myself.” Camille, Alexander, and Natasha were led down to a basement. It was pitch black, and then Margot hit a switch, which flooded the whole space with light.

At the end of the stairs was a workbench with crucifixes hanging from the wall, and an assembly of sharp weapons lying on the bench.

“Are you a Hunter?” Alexander asked, his eyes roving over the crucifixes.

“No, I’m just prepared to protect my family, at any cost,” Margot said, her voice carrying a hint of pride.

That’s when they heard the clanking of chains. Alexander left the group and followed the sound off to a far corner of the basement.

The section of the basement had a bit more natural light streaming through the small windows, at the tops of the walls. Alexander found another small eight-by-ten space, and there was a girl chained up in there.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to get you out,” Alexander said. He looked around, but he failed to find a set of keys anywhere.

“No, you aren’t,” Margot’s voice came from behind him, and there was an intimidating edge to it that wasn’t there when they had been sitting in the living room.

“Why are you doing this?” Alexander asked, rather angrily. If his uneasy feeling about Margot hadn’t been confirmed earlier, it was now.

“She and her people used me,” Margot spit out, glaring at the girl in the cell, as she paced in front of it.

“I told you, it was before my time!” the girl croaked.

“And I told you not to speak!” Margot thundered. Alexander was taken aback by the hardened tone that she used when speaking to the girl behind the bars.

“Used you?” Alexander asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“One of them possessed me,” Margot said, still pacing in front of Alexander and the small cell, “Throughout my whole pregnancy, they kept whispering how I was the ‘vessel that was harboring their greatest keepsake.’ The day I gave birth to you, that same night, they came to take you away.”

“Why didn’t you let them, if you were just going to give me up, anyway?” Alexander asked. He was feeling quite agitated now; if Margot was going to give him up anyway, why didn’t she just let whoever came for him, take him?

“I, honestly, had no intention of giving you up; yes, I was eighteen, a young girl with her whole life ahead of her, and no idea about babies, whatsoever, but I was going to figure it out,” she explained. Alexander noticed that she seemed more agitated, and the tone of her voice was reaching the point of hysteria, “That was why I gave you up, to protect you.”

“I’m still not going to let you hurt her,” Alexander said, trying to stand in front of the cell and block the girl as much as possible.

“That’s a shame, then,” Margot replied. Her eyes were widened, and her pupils seemed to dilate. Alexander moved in a circle, following her as she paced. He didn’t see it when she reached behind her, and then she produced a handgun, pointing it right at Alexander.

Fear won out on his emotional roller coaster, and he put his hands up, in surrender.

“C’mon now, there’s no need for this,” he said, in a steady voice, despite the fact that he was scared shitless.

“You’re in league with them,” Margot shouted, nodding towards the cell.

“No, no I’m not,” he responded. Before he could say anything more, a shot rang off; Alexander dove out of the way, hitting a side wall. He looked towards the cell to see that the bullet had missed the girl and was embedded in the wall behind her.

For some reason, even though he didn’t know her, the thought of this girl getting hurt sent a wave of white-hot rage rolling through Alexander. He stood up and, just as Margot let off another shot, he put his hands up.

As if it was a force holding it, it was stopped, floating in mid-air.

Margot’s eyes widened at the sight.

“You are one of them,” she whispered. Alexander looked up just in time to see Margot running at him with some kind of sword. Before he could respond, there was another shot that sounded; Alexander watched as Margot collapsed, about a foot away from him.

Alexander’s focus on the bullet was broken, and it fell to the floor.

There were footsteps coming his way, and he looked up as Natasha and Camille walked into the space that he occupied.

“Oh my God,” Natasha whispered, as she walked past Alexander. He turned to see her getting a ring of keys off of an exposed beam. Finding the right key, Natasha was able to unlock the cell.

“Are you okay?” Camille asked, coming up to Alexander.

“I’m fine,” he said, though he was a bit shaken. He looked behind him, again, to see Natasha leading the girl out of the cell, “Is she going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Camille responded. Alexander looked at the mystery girl again; aside from the blue sundress that she wore, her blond hair seemed to fall around her face, and she had this certain glow that surrounded her.

“What about Margot?” he asked, looking at his birth mother’s unconscious form on the ground in front of him

“She’ll be fine, it was just a tranquilizer dart; worst thing is that she might wake up groggy,” Camille said, “But we best get out of here, before she does wake up.”

Alexander nodded, and followed her to the basement stairs, where Natasha sat with the mystery girl, who now had a quilt draped over her shoulders.

“Do you know your name?” Natasha asked, quietly and gently.

“My name is Seraphine,” the girl said, her voice sounding melodic when she spoke.

It was the first time that Alexander had gotten a good look at her; her face had traces of bruises and cuts, her bottom lip was split, her dress was dirty, as though it hadn’t been washed in a while. Her feet and legs had scrapes and scratches on them.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Camille asked; it was the first time that Alexander ever heard her speak as gently as she was now.

“No,” Seraphine shook her head, her hair falling into her face as she did so, “All I know is that, one minute I was standing in the middle of this town, and the next minute, this woman is locking me up in this place, and muttering how she’s going to get back at them.”

“Do you know who she was talking about?” Alexander asked, “She seemed to think that you were one of them as well.”

“I am,” Seraphina said, simply.

“One of what?” Camille asked, looking between Seraphina and Alexander, “What are we talking about?”

“Angels,” Seraphina stated, as though it were obvious, “I am one.”